


The Best Laid Schemes o' Mice an' Men

by HannahJane



Series: The Hand of the Goddess [6]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Fusion, Gen, Irish Mythology - Freeform, Not Canon Compliant, secondary character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahJane/pseuds/HannahJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgan's circle of protection has just widened to include a temperamental musical prodigy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The crash from the living room, accompanied by his father's startled squawk sent Roddy tearing out of his bedroom, down the tiny hall and into the main room of the trailer where he skidded to a stop on the threadbare carpet. His father lay in the remains of their cheap particleboard bookcase, groaning and trying to fumble back to his feet while a dark-haired girl with talons for fingers stood over him. With a roar, Roddy lifted the violin he still clutched in his hands and charged towards her, fighting instincts that told him to turn and run the other way. The girl turned with uncanny grace when he was a step away, her talons closed around his wrist and the violin was wrenched for his grasp, the strings burning against his fingers. Roddy came to an abrupt stop with an 'oof' as he slammed into the girl's side which felt a lot like hitting a wall.

 

"Sit," the girl commanded, shoving him in the direction of the couch so hard that he stumbled, falling onto it. Roddy quickly righted himself, scrambling into a sitting position, preparing to leap off the couch and attack again. The girl bent over his father and Roddy tensed to spring. As she bent to grab his father, Roddy leaped up, rushing her. She straightened in a blur of motion, one hand darting out grabbing the front of his shirt, hauling him so close that he could feel her breath on his face. Up close her eyes were hard and sharp then abruptly, she shoved him away. Roddy barely regained his footing, almost falling to the floor.

 

"I said 'sit'." She ordered, the command turning into something harsh. She pointed at the couch with the violin that she still held in one hand. " _Now_." As if his legs were no longer under his own command, Roddy took two steps in that direction and collapsed onto the cushions. Again, the girl bent over his father, grasping his shoulder. The man shook with undisguised terror as those talons tightened and then suddenly she lifted him as if he weighed nothing. With a thump, Roddy's father landed on the couch next to Roddy.

 

"What do you want?" Roddy strained to see something, to see what this girl with unnatural strength and beautiful eyes was, but all he could see were very human features and a look of obvious irritation. She could have been one of the seniors he went to school with, although he was willing to bet she was nothing like those airheads. But no true human was capable of throwing around a man – even one as small as his father – with the ease that she'd displayed.

 

"To appear before _wesen_ just once without being attacked." She said, turning to face them, still wearing the irritated expression. It made her look younger than he was pretty sure she was, as if her parents had just grounded her or taken away her car. "You are the latest in a very long line who fight before trying to speak." Roddy blinked as the talons wrapped around the neck of his violin morphed back into fingers, complete with glittery black nail polish.

 

"Here," she shoved the instrument at him. Roddy accepted it numbly, frightened and a little confused. "Stop trying to destroy your future."

 

"I- what?" was all that came out in place of the hundred of questions that Roddy felt on the tip of his tongue. His father was still insensible at his elbow, moaning in the back of his throat. _Reinegen_ weren't great in the face of danger.

 

"He'll be fine," the girl said, hands going to her hips, fingers curling around the curves in a manner that would have been distracting if those digits hadn't been claws just a few seconds ago. "I merely frightened him."

 

"Frightened him? You threw him through our bookcase!" Roddy yelped, fear momentarily forgotten. "I'd say you fucking _frightened_ him all right!" the girl regarded him for a few minutes before giving her head a slight shake as if struggling with disbelief.

 

"And Nicholas believes _you_ need protection." She muttered as if speaking to herself. Roddy frowned in confusion.

 

"Who the hell are you talking about?" he asked, clutching his violin close. The girl ignored his question, instead crossing to the trailer window and peering through the dirty vertical blinds. Her fingers came away dusty and she shook them off with a look of disdain, dust particles dancing away from her skin.

 

"Roddy Geiger, you are under my protection. You and your father." The suddenness of her voice made Roddy jump. The words penetrated, but weren't understood. He put his violin on the couch between him and his father and stood.

 

"Protection?" Who the hell did this girl think she was? He took a step forward, a floorboard creaked, and she turned, her dark hair swaying like a wave. The intensity in her gaze prevented him from taking another step forward.

 

"I should undoubtedly threaten something along the lines of staying in school, but your educational well-being is of no concern to me. Merely your physical safety." It was a little disconcerting to be getting a lecture from a girl who looked like she was his age. Roddy blinked.

 

"Be alert, little rat. There are creatures out there who would consider you to be an appetizer." She said, face serious. "And contrary to popular belief, I cannot be everywhere at once." Roddy blinked again. He was dreaming. He'd fallen asleep practicing – it had happened more than once before – and those jalapeno cheese taquitos from the 7-11 were wreaking havoc on his brain from all the way down in his stomach.

 

"Oh yeah?" Roddy said, stepping forward putting on his best smirk, the one that had first attracted Sarah. Hell, if this was a dream, he should enjoy it while he could before he woke up in a pool of his own drool with a piece of sheet music stuck to the side of his face. "You one of those creatures that thinks about snacking on me?" Previous to opening his mouth and shoving his size 9 Chuck Taylor inside, Roddy had been unaware that an eyebrow could be sarcastic, but now he was aware that one arched eyebrow could display sarcasm and derision, all at once.

 

"Flirtation is perhaps not the best route to take when speaking with one's elders." The girl said, almost gently and suddenly Roddy was struck with the thought that she was old, much older than he had originally believed, an ancient soul in a smoking hot body. He felt like he was balanced on the edge of a cliff, standing this close to her.

 

"Yeah, sorry," Roddy said awkwardly and went back to the couch. His dad was quiet now, just staring at the girl who now stood with her hands on her hips, head cocked to the side, staring at them. Then with another shake of her head, she held out a hand to Roddy. He sat still, staring at the outstretched fingers, knowing what she wanted and nervous to do it.

 

"You will flirt with me like a scoundrel, but the thought of touching my hand sends you into spasms of terror?" she asked, arm still extended. Roddy ignored his better judgment and stood, taking her hand. Her skin was soft and cool and she drew him in until they were standing close, chests touching. She was a little shorter than him, having to look up through her lashes. That look should have been illegal, scary powerful creature or not.

 

"Roddy Geiger, you are mine," the girl placed her palm flat in the middle of his chest, meeting his gaze dead-on. "My protection has been placed over this household and to tamper with that protection will bring my wrath down in full force." Her words seemed to hold an even greater unspoken meaning, but Roddy couldn't focus on them, just on the hand pressed to his sternum and the almost-glowing green eyes that held his own gaze. Two beats of silence and she stepped back and then with a twitch of her lips that may have been a smile, she was gone.

 

By the next day, Roddy had himself convinced the entire thing had been a terrible dream. He'd come out of his bedroom the next morning to find his father on the couch, an empty beer bottle in his hand, clearly having drunk himself into a stupor the night before. Of course, Roddy had dreamed the entire thing. He very carefully did not look at the wall where the bookcase no longer stood, telling himself that his father had obviously trashed the living room during his binge the night before. In fact, he didn't have to face reality until around eleven-thirty that morning when two deliverymen knocked on the door of the trailer and dropped off a heavy mahogany bookcase, complete with an unsigned note that read:

 

_My apologies for the bookcase. Stay in school._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I can never get enough of Roddy.

All Roddy knew was one minute Geoffrey was pulling his fist back to throw another punch – a punch that Roddy prayed would drop him in one go so he wouldn’t have to be conscious for the rest of what would undoubtedly be a beating of unmatched proportions – and the next Geoffrey was sprawled on his ass in the mud, sporting a nose that gushed like a faucet. Startled, Roddy glanced at his own hands clutching his violin case and backpack and wondered where the hell the punch had come from. Then a distinctly female body curved in front of him, facing off against the other three boys who had backed Roddy against the side of the equipment shed just off the soccer field.

 

“If you have any sense at all, you little idiots will run away and never look back.” A lethally soft voice said and Roddy almost dropped his violin into the puddle he’d been backed into.

 

It was _her_.

 

“You can’t just hit someone like that! That’s assault!“ Geoffrey garbled, blood making his voice wet and even more unpleasant than usual.

 

“The broken nose was a warning, you little cretin. The next time it will be a limb.” The most menacing thing about the way the girl made her threat was the complete and utter nonchalance with which she said it as if they were discussing the weather. Geoffrey paled under his tan and the closest friend – one of the other members of the basketball team – reached down and hauled him to his feet. The girl took a step forward, one hand curling into a fist at her side. Clearly unwilling to find out if the threat had been bravado or a promise, the group of boys turned and fled like terrified rabbits.

 

“And you,” the girl said as she turned, crowding Roddy’s personal space, irritation scrawled in the curl of her lip. “Learn to defend yourself, child. It is not that difficult.” Instinctively, Roddy’s hackles rose, his already frayed temper pushed that little bit too far.

 

“With what? You want me to break my violin over their heads?” he snapped, pushing off the building with his shoulders, getting in her personal space. She blinked once at him, then put her hand on his chest and pushed him against the wall hard, pinning him. Roddy would have struggled if he hadn’t been worried about his sternum cracking under the pressure of her palm.

 

“If that is what it takes, rat, _do it_. Bite, claw, go for the low blow. _Defend_ yourself. The victim has only sympathy as a balm, the warrior has honor.” She released him with that fortune cookie quote and stepped back.

 

As if in response to her scowl, the skies opened and a light rain began to fall. The girl sighed as if the weather had personally affronted her and shrugged into a fitted leather jacket that appeared out of nowhere, suddenly sliding up her arms. Magic had a specific smell, like burnt marshmallows and rotten fruit. The stench permeated the air around the girl. Roddy’s _reinegen_ instincts told him to flee, but he suspected that if he tried, he would find a set of talons sinking into his back before he made it two steps.

 

“Come,” a single word thrown over her shoulder as she walked away. Roddy half-stumbled forward before he heard the order in it and stopped dead. He set his soaking wet feet firmly in the mud and glared at her retreating back. The girl stopped fifteen feet away, not bothering to turn around and spoke.

 

“You come of your own accord, rat,” her voice carried easily back to him. “Or I will drag you of mine. I’m sure you can figure out option which will be more pleasant.” Roddy tripped over his own feet trying to catch up.

 

In the parking lot, there were still little knots of students, ignoring the rain with the studiousness of born and bred Oregonians. No one said a thing as Roddy – who they had all seen be chased out of the school and across the parking lot just minutes earlier – walked with the girl towards a big black Dodge 4x4 that took up two parking spots in the corner. Roddy stopped at the tailgate, cold and still a little scared while the girl continued on to the door on the driver’s side. She stopped there and then looked back at him, one eyebrow quirking.

 

“I believe we have already covered the topic of following today.” She said, one hand on the door. Roddy heard the jingle of keys somewhere out of sight.

 

“Look, there are witnesses now. I am _not_ getting in this truck. I don’t even know your name.” Roddy hoped his newly discovered backbone would remain exactly where it was as the words spilled out of his mouth. The girl’s green eyes flicked to the other students in the parking lot and then back to Roddy. Her face gave away nothing.

 

“I could kill them all before you could blink, little rat. The dead are not reliable witnesses.” She said succinctly and opened the door. “Get in the truck.” The threat almost moved Roddy forward, one foot lifting independently of the other in a rush to obey, but he stopped it from going any further. Roddy squared his shoulders and stuck his chin out, clinging to false bravado. There was a soft sound, maybe a sigh, maybe not and she turned to him.

 

“My name is Morgan.” The newly named girl said, pulling herself into the cab of the truck. “Now get in, your instrument is getting wet.” Roddy almost pointed out that he’d saved for a very long time to buy a special waterproof case for the instrument, but she gave him another look and he scurried around to the passenger door.

 

Morgan silently slipped the key into the ignition, the heating vents expelling a cloud of hot air as soon the engine turned over. Roddy put his backpack on the floorboards at his feet, balanced his violin on his knees, and held out his hands to the vents. Still silent, Morgan drove out of the parking lot and angled the truck down the hill that Von Hamelin perched atop like the proverbial ivory tower. She didn’t put on her seatbelt, but Roddy wasn’t feeling nearly as brave and he tugged the strap over his chest, pulling it tight.

 

“Thanks,” Roddy’s voice sounded unnaturally loud in the cab. The girl didn’t reply, all focus on the road. It wasn’t until they were caught in traffic on the NATO parkway that she even looked at him.

 

“You’re bleeding.” Morgan said deadpan then flicked those eerie eyes back to the road. Roddy flipped down the visor on his side and winced at the sight that met him in the mirror.

 

Before Morgan’s arrival, Geoffrey had managed to get in a few good licks and the half-moon cut on his cheek reflected the other boy’s penchant for titanium jewelry. Roddy dabbed at it with the sleeve of his jacket, but all that did was smear the blood still oozing out of it. The soft slender hand that suddenly cupped his jaw frightened him and he couldn’t control the _volga_ loosing his _reinegen_ side, features shifting back and forth.

 

“Stop,” there was nothing kind in the command, no tender undertones, but Roddy stopped struggling immediately, actually finding that he had difficulty not leaning into the touch. Morgan leaned across the bench seat, close enough for Roddy to imagine that the action was about to lead to a kiss and then she turned his head, inspecting the cut. There was a soft grunt from the girl and then Roddy stiffened at the feeling of breathe ghosting across his skin. Warmth erupted in his chest, boiling down his veins and into his extremities and then Morgan leaned back, inspected his face again, and with a nod of satisfaction, returned her hands to the wheel.

 

It took Roddy a few beats to turn back to the mirror, the cut had vanished as had the slow-healing bruise that had been marring his jaw since the last Von Hamelin beat down. In fact, he found that he was no longer chilled and that the usual aches from sleeping on his crappy mattress at home had vanished as well. The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

 

“What are you?” the silence was not unexpected. That Roddy was not suddenly overwhelmed by a rush of terror at the knowledge that he was alone in a vehicle with such a powerful creature was unexpected. For the first time since he’d met the girl, he saw something approaching discomfort on her features.

 

“Your guardian,” she said, not looking away from the road. “I believe this has already been discussed.” Roddy bristled at the condescension in her tone.

 

“Not to my satisfaction, it hasn’t.” one of these days, Roddy’s temper really was going to get him killed. Traffic had yet to move, stranding them in a sea of vehicles. Roddy was glad that he was surrounded by witnesses even though he doubted a single one of them could stop Morgan should she decide to decapitate him right then and there.

 

“At the moment, _reinegen_ , your satisfaction is perhaps one of the farthest things from my mind.” Despite the appearance of a teenage girl, Morgan had an odd, stiltedly formal way of speaking, just serving to drive home her otherness.

 

“You know, you should really let someone pull out that stick one of these-“ Roddy’s voice was suddenly lost as a taloned hand shot out, wrapping tight around his throat and pinning him to the door. Morgan leaned in close, eyes glowing and snarled, with fangs and everything.

 

“Listen to me, child.” Her voice was low and lethal, more of a growl. “My protection is not something offered lightly. To mock that which you do not understand is foolish and will result in a less than pleasant death.” Roddy wanted to say he’d never really considered death to have any pleasant aspects, however, Morgan’s grip was slowly but surely cutting off his air.

 

“All you need to know is that you have been marked as mine and any that dare cause you harm will answer to me.” She leaned in a little closer until all Roddy could see in his line of vision were angry green eyes. “And no one wants to answer to me, rat. Do you understand?” Roddy tried to nod, difficult considering the placement of her claws and his jugular. Morgan gave his neck an extra squeeze before she released him, settling back into the driver’s seat.

 

Roddy stayed where he was, cringing against the passenger door, drawing in deep gulps of air. Morgan seemed completely focused on the traffic which had begun to move again, her hands gripping the wheel lightly in direct contrast to the squeeze of her fingers just seconds ago. Scared didn’t even begin to describe the feelings coursing through him. Petrified was probably closer to it, but he was shocked at the equally powerful sensation of safety that had settled over him at the threat that had accompanied her words. Even the blundering Grimm with his lectures and well-meant intentions hadn’t inspired a feeling of safety.

 

“I’m sorry,” he meant it even if he didn’t look at her when he said it. What she did with it was another matter.

 

“It is already forgotten,” Morgan said, her voice quiet.

 

Roddy leaned his head against the glass, staring between raindrops at the world beyond the window. A soft hand settled on his shoulder, but he couldn’t quite seem to lift his head to look at it or it’s owner. Dimly aware of the lethargy settling into his bones, he worked up enough brainpower to label it an adrenaline dump from earlier fight with his fellow students and the recent scare with Morgan. He was sure it had nothing to do with the music slowly filling the cabin, a soft voice lilting words he didn’t understand, but could feel. Darkness gently reached up to pull him down, wrapping warm around his body and sending him drifting into sleep.

 

**

 

Roddy woke in his own bed, tucked in like his mother used to do, the blankets snug under his feet and pressed tight over his chest with his arms on top. Something tugged at his mind, soft hands brushing his hair from his face, a melodic voice speaking comforting words as muscles showed no strain, lifting him. He sat up with a groan, scrubbing his hands down his face. On the third pass of his palms across his eyes, memory assaulted him: Morgan, the Von Hamelin students, anger, gentleness.

 

“Morgan?” he asked, slowly lowering his hands. His small bedroom was empty, his backpack and violin sitting on the chair in the corner. The lamp on his desk was on, twisted around to face away from him so as not too wake him. It was that small detail, the thoughtfulness that threatened to choke him. For the first time since the incident with the Grimm and Sarah’s betrayal, Roddy curled in on himself and wept.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I loved Roddy in the series and wished they'd done more with him. 
> 
>  
> 
> The title of the story is from the poem "To a Mouse" by Robert Burns.


End file.
